


From a Mountain so Lonely

by Bardic



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Bilbo Baggins & Thranduil Friendship, Caring Thranduil, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, King Thorin, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Protective Thorin, Protective Thranduil, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardic/pseuds/Bardic
Summary: Excerpt:Bofur gave him the same scan over, eyes catching on a particular section of missing hair, then narrowing at the blood soaked bandages "Master Burglar what have you-""I would ask you, Master Bofur" Bilbo paused and took a fortifying breath "for your forgiveness and my sincere thanks for having shared such a journey with me."Everyone lives, but it's always more complicated than that, isn't it?
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 119
Kudos: 305





	1. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! This is my first major story I've written for any fandom in a number of years. I hope you'll enjoy, and if you're confused by anything there will be more clarification at the ending, unless it will be explained later.

Everything was a blur when Bilbo woke up. He was far from the cold ice where he had held Thorin as the dwarf king gasped out words Bilbo barely recognized for the ringing in his ears. Bilbo could remember the yells from every corner of the battlefield, a constant cycle of ‘Thorin’. 

As he gazed at the canvas above him, he wondered where he was now. There was a vague memory of slipping on a ring and familiar shadows, of watching Thorin be surrounded by his fellows while his eyes moved frantically over Bilbo. What had happened afterwards? 

Where was he? His throat hurt. He squinted and licked his lips, cringing away at the dryness. He tried to sit up, only to end up sprawled back with white flashing behind his eyes and his ears ringing as he groaned in pain.

“Halfling?” 

Bilbo huffed as his breathing began to even out, “That’s offensive you know.”

There was a chuckle and a hand briefly brushed over his temple before retracting. “I would apologize, Being of Short Standing, however I never caught your name.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply before he stopped with confusion as he recognized the voice. “Thranduil?”

“You’re lucky to be alive, although I am flattered you remember me. Considering we only met after you stole thirteen dwarves from my dungeon and bargained for peace with a rock,” the voic- Thranduil huffed out. 

Bilbo finally opened his eyes to the sight of the Elven King and fixed him with an unimpressed stare, uncaring of his usual propriety. “I’m sorry, was it the stone that was too much or was it the stealing of thirteen dwarves because your guards got drunk?” 

Thranduil stared at him and huffed in amusement. “Either your head injury has made you bold or you’ve more bravery than I thought.” Bilbo didn’t answer as Thranduil placed his hand back onto his head and closed his eyes. Bilbo didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t ask as he observed Thranduil. 

The Elven King no longer wore his armor, nor did he wear his sweeping robes. Thranduil wore simple pants, and a clean shirt with its arms rolled up to his elbow. Thranduil’s eyes opened and met Bilbo’s before he sighed and stepped away, “Although you are awake I have fears on what the effects of this injury will be.” Thranduil tilted his head slightly as his eyes observed Bilbo in a brief scan, “I am gladdened your memories seem to still be intact, although I wonder.”

His eyes met Bilbo’s again, “Where are you?”

Bilbo stared at Thranduil for a long moment before glancing around. “In a tent?”

Thranduil sighed before speaking patiently, “Where is the tent? What do you last remember? Close your eyes and breathe deeply, think about where you last remember being.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and breathed out slowly as he tried to remember, “I was on ice. Thorin was there?” Bilbo paused and huffed at the thought. “The Company- His Company was there. They took Thorin?” Bilbo opened his eyes to Thranduil staring at him. 

When the silence stretched Bilbo closed his eyes again. “I’m wrong aren’t I?” Thranduil shook his head. “We did find you on the ice. Oakenshield and his kin were nowhere nearby, you were alone.” Thranduil nodded before frowning, his lips ticking down slightly. “They left you?”

Bilbo thought back before nodding. “Yes. Why wouldn’t they?” When no response came Bilbo opened his eyes to see the elf staring at him, eyes slightly wide and pupils dilated. Why was the elf surprised?

Thranduil swallowed and seemed to weigh his next words. “Oakenshield has made many mistakes in these days, dwarrow in general I have found do not take matters of debt so lightly. To abandon a member of his company with such a position as yours and the killer of his lines bane is a great dishonor on his head,” Thranduil paused and his face grew stormy “unless they were not to survive to claim the dishonor.”

Bilbo tried to decipher what Thranduil was saying until he paused, “killer of his line’s bane? Azog is dead?”

Thranduil twitched and his face schooled itself, “you do not remember?”

“Remember what?”

Thranduil nodded to himself. “It seems your memory may need a bit of time. I shall leave you to rest-” “Wait” “-my son will be here in a moment, allow him to help you.” “What do you-” “We need to keep you healthy Master-?” 

Bilbo stared at Thranduil. “What?”

“Your name. I never got it.”

“Bilbo. My name is Bilbo Baggins.”

Thranduil gave him a kind smile, or as close as an elf could get, “Master Baggins I will see you returned to full health under myself and my kin. Be welcomed in our camp and ask for anything you need.”

“Why-”

Thranduil had already walked out.

Bilbo stared after the Elven King before he sighed and let himself sink back into the cot he was on. 

It was only a few minutes later that the tent flap was opened again and a tall, blonde elf of similar baring to Thranduil walked in. 

"I am glad to know you have awoken Master Baggins. We were unsure whether your head injury was too great for you to recover, it gladdens my heart you pulled through." the elf paused in his speaking to note Bilbo's sprawled position on the too-big cot. "Let us sit you up." 

The elf was gentle as he slowly propped the hobbit up using pillows. When he was set up the elf nodded and moved about the tent quickly, picking up various things before coming to sit next to Bilbo. It took Bilbo a minute for his eyes to focus until he could recognize the elf as Legolas. 

"You are fortunate Master Baggins, that our archers have such keen eyes." he began as he leaned forward into his space, his eyes focused on a point on Bilbo's temple, "You were well hidden, it is only unfortunate you sustained such a deep cut."

"A cut?"

Legolas nodded and reached forward to begin undoing the bandages from around Bilbo's head. Bilbo only saw a flash of red at the edges of his vision as the elf carefully began peeling the bandages away from his blood-soaked curls. Despite the gentle touch Bilbo still flinched from the pull on his skin. Legolas eyed him before sighing, "I apologize that we could not do much to save your hair."

"My hair?"

Legolas nodded gravely. "Although you are not dwarrow I understand a braid like the one you had is highly revered." Bilbo's memory took him to the last night in Laketown, when he had been held as if he was the world, the braid and bead he had been given. It was gone? Legolas seemed to note his devastated expression, since he reached to a small stool next to Bilbo, bringing forward a delicate braid with a bead on the end. It was his, but it was soaked in blood. Bilbo swallowed as he reached for it. 

Legolas gave it willingly and picked up the fresh bandages before shaking his head. "I'll be right back. I need to clean your hair." Legolas went to stand before going ridged, "If you're amenable to that." Bilbo was barely listening, but he nodded. 

Legolas sighed in relief and left quickly. 

Bilbo ran the braid through his fingers, it had taken Thorin an hour to figure out how to make it work with his curls. He smiled fondly at the memory of Thorin cursing as a strand slipped from the braid, making him restart. His smile faded at the memory of Thorin trying to rip it from his head as he held him over the ramparts. Thorin, he had really fucked it up hadn't he? Bilbo clenched the braid tightly in his hand and shook his head. He couldn't-wouldn't regret his actions. Thorin may hate him, and he may be just a shire-rat, but he would never regret having tried to save his friends from a war they wouldn't win. 

Legolas came back in to the sight of the Halfling clutching his braid tightly. "Master Baggins?" The Halfling jumped and looked at Legolas, sighing as he loosened his hold on his braid. "I apologize. I'm not-" another sigh, "handling this as well as I should."

Legolas shook his head, "In my opinion you are handling this as perfectly as anyone else. You are alive Master Baggins. You survived a brutal head injury with most of your memories intact. The Company you traveled with is alive, if you hadn't interfered that wouldn't be so." Legolas was earnest, even as Bilbo huffed and shook his head at him, grimacing at the slight pain he felt. 

"I've done nothing but mess up since I started. A Hobbit isn't meant to go beyond the Shire." 

Legolas stared at him before shaking his head. "You are here, so obviously you were meant to go beyond the Shire and unless I'm mistaken you are a Hobbit."

Legolas finally walked forward as Bilbo tried to find his words, placing the small bucket he had filled with water down. "You may not believe it Master Baggins, but you've done many a great boon. Even if you can't remember it, or realize exactly how it impacted us all."

Bilbo shook his head, "I'm just a Hobbit. We don't do great deeds or boons."

Legolas sat down and wet a cloth with the water, ringing it out as he thought his next words through carefully. He lifted the cloth up to Bilbo's head with a soft, "May I?" Bilbo nodded and Legolas carefully began washing blood away from Bilbo's head. Long moments passed, the cloth being taken away and soaked again until the water was a deep red and Bilbo's head felt lighter. 

"You may not think Hobbits to do such things however you must consider that you are a Hobbit and you have." Legolas caught Bilbo's gaze as he dropped the rag in the bucket. "It matters not what this world has pinned you as. What your former Company has said you are." Bilbo winced at that and looked away from Legolas. "What matters is what you have done." Legolas continued as he dried off his hands on an extra rag. "What matters is that you are here and alive, despite your trials."

Legolas grabbed the bandages he had left earlier and began carefully wrapping Bilbo's head, moving curls and rearranging his hair, so they would stay out of his way. Legolas finished with a nod and a smile towards the Hobbit. "If you'll excuse me Master Baggins I have others I need to see. Please call for the guard stationed outside if you need anything." Legolas stood and left before Bilbo could respond. 

Bilbo huffed, "Elves and their riddles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I know this is a bit iffy, but I'd love to hear some feedback and chat with people in the comments. 
> 
> Thranduil is slightly out of character here, with reason. In the books and movies we never see Thranduil after the battle and the aftermath of taking care of his soldiers, so I made Thranduil a bit more sympathetic, although near the end he's come to a realization, so he's more serious.


	2. When Peace is to be Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you'll enjoy this second chapter. Once again, if anything needs clarification it'll be below.

Thranduil stares coldly at the dwarf in front of him. The newly restored King Under The Mountain was still on bed rest at the advice of his healers and so meetings took place in his tent. Oakenshield looked exhausted, his breathing was still shallow and despite having not moved from his bed he sweats as if he'd run for miles. Thranduil feels no sympathy. The Line of Durin was known for its madness and Thranduil feels repulsed for how he sat here as if he hadn't abandoned his line's savior to die. 

Thorin didn't even look like he was in mourning, even if they thought Master Baggins was dead; which Thranduil wouldn't put it past the dwarves to be so negligent in their checking, Thorin didn't seem as if he cared the holder of his braid was unaccounted for. Thranduil kept himself neutral as the newly restored to royalty, Bard came through the opening of the tent. 

"I'm sorry I'm late. I was helping inspect Dale for any usable buildings for the upcoming Winter." Bard gives a clumsy bow and Thranduil feels bad for the former bargeman. "Peace, Bard. You are not too late. We hadn't even begun." Bard nods and takes his seat, eyeing Thranduil wearily as the Elven King keeps his eyes trained on the Dwarf in front of him. 

One of Thorin's advisors, Balin, Thranduil's mind informs him comes forward and clears his throat. "This meeting was called to decide the future of Erebor and Dale, as well as insure no one here discredits anyone else's claims."

"King Thranduil, what are your conditions?"

Thranduil slowly exhales and eyes everyone individually before he speaks, "My conditions are that the Gems of Lasglen be returned. Until the kingdom of Erebor is back on its feet I require nothing else."

Balin nods, swallowing at Thranduil's dismissive tone and turns to Bard, "King Bard, what are your conditions?"

Bard didn't build up like Thranduil did, "The former Men of Laketown, now of Dale have nowhere to go for the Winter. Dale is still in ruins, and the dragon did irreparable damage to Laketown." Bard pauses for a breath, "There is also the issue of food. I would ask to take refuge in the mountain for the Winter."

Every dwarf at the table bristles at that as Bard continued.

"Of course it would not be for free. We offer to help with the clearing and cleaning of the mountain, in return we ask that the Dwarrow of Erebor help us rebuild Dale when Spring comes."

Balin nods. "We will have to consider these demands, although it is agreeable that we will provide materials and funds to rebuild Dale."

Bard takes a measured breath and nods. Thorin clears his throat, and with a rough voice, adds to the terms "We will welcome the men of Dale into the mountain, as long as it is agreed a share of crops is given to the dwarrow of Erebor." 

Bard shakes his head, "Anything the men of Dale can grow will be traded for fairly, just like anything else."

Oakenshield sighs and seems to weigh his choices, "For allowing the men of Dale to shelter in the mountain I would ask for a share of crops produced by Dale after Winter."

Bard nods, "I understand, however it stands that your actions brought a fire drake down upon our homes, which has led to us needing housing in the first place."

The red-haired dwarf to Oakenshield's left exhales roughly and shakes his head, "The mountain will not be stable enough to sustain a population over a few hundred. Even if-"

"How fortunate-" Thranduil begins with a sneer, "that a dragon has reduced the population of Dale under a hundred."

The whole room stares at Thranduil even as he waves a hand and continues, "Of course there is also the problem of sourcing enough food for all of those who need to take refuge under the mountain and in that I offer aid."

Immediately Oakenshield's face grows stormy and Thranduil privately cheers at the victory. "But before that I'd have a request to make."

Balin puffs a breath and states firmly, "It will take ages to sort the treasury, much longer than a Winter. We would ask-"

"I don't care for the gems at the moment. My concern lies with our would-be peacemaker." Bard's face lights up in understanding, and he turns to the dwarves. 

"Master Baggins is with you correct? How is he? I wish to thank him for his foresight the night before you left." Bard grows solemn, "I never thanked him properly for his advice."

The dwarves in turn look shaken. "Master Baggins has not been seen since the battle. At least not by me or my kin." Oakenshield takes a breath before continuing with a grimace, "We were unaware he was unaccounted for."

Thranduil barely contains a huff. Abandoned on the ice, unaccounted for indeed.

Thranduil chooses his next words carefully, "If it is true a member of your company is missing I have to wonder why a representative has not been to every camp to check. He signed a contract did he not?"

The dwarf in front of him glares at Thranduil, and he huffs a breath. "Master Baggins has not shown his face, and-" "What if he did?" Bard cuts in. "What would you do?"

"This is not why this meeting was called." 

"What would you do?"

Oakenshield huffs but doesn't answer. 

A tense silence settles over them all and Thranduil eventually stands. "If that is all I will be leaving back to my people." Bard nodded and stood to follow. 

He turns to leave, with Bard on his heels before pausing with a grin no one else could see, "Perhaps I will search for Master Baggins myself. He was a delight to meet, and I'm sure the same Hobbit that stole thirteen dwarves from my dungeon before riddling with a dragon could be a great asset to my kingdom."

Thranduil steps out with Bard at the same time a large crash is heard from inside the tent behind them. 

They continue on until they are far removed from the dwarvish tents and Bard finally sighs. "That was a bit cruel. The Halfling might be dead." Thranduil hums in acknowledgement. "Or not."

Bard looks over, "You know more about his fate than you've let on." Thranduil nods and motions Bard to follow as he makes his way swiftly to his own camp. 

They walk unchallenged to the tent Thranduil knows holds his guest, and he looks over to Bard. "The term Halfling is offensive."

"I beg your pardon."

Thranduil opens the tent and motions Bard in, "The preferred term is Hobbit."

Bard steps in and lets his eyes adjust in the dim light, "Master Baggins?"

"Bard?"


	3. Friends and Follies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! We're back with another chapter. I hope you all will enjoy!

After Legolas had left Bilbo had dozed for a bit. He was woken briefly to have broth slid down his throat, but the elf had only spoken a few soft words too quickly for Bilbo to recognize before leaving. Bilbo hadn’t really moved from his upright position, and although he was still hungry he didn’t wish to disturb whoever might be guarding him outside. 

While he sat there, not quite asleep he thought back to Ravenhill. Had he made actually made it there? There was the ice nearby, he had held Thorin on it. Or did he? Bilbo had seen The Company, he was sure of it. Why couldn’t he remember if he made it to Ravenhill? It was right there. The Company had been right there. They’d left him and took Thorin. Yeah, Thorin had been taken away. 

Bilbo was sure in the knowledge he had been left. It should have hurt, it did, but it was so fuzzy. He was sad about his braid, but was it even his braid anymore? Bilbo thought back to the Ramparts, the hands at his throat and the hand that had grabbed onto his braid. Thorin had wanted it back, right? He had every right to demand it back, is that what he had been saying on the ice? 

Bilbo paused and tried to remember how Thorin looked in that moment. He had looked desperate, he had reached for him. Maybe he did want the braid back. Bilbo swallowed and sighed before huffing, it’s what he’d expected after he’d bartered the Arkenstone away. Tears came to his eyes and he chastised himself, he’d known. 

With a final sigh Bilbo steeled himself, he’d never feared Thorin before, and even now he wondered how he was doing. His injuries hadn’t seemed so bad, he was probably fine, too stubborn to die after it all most likely.

Outside his tent Bilbo could hear voices, he barely caught the word ‘halfling’ before the tent entrance was opened and someone stepped in. It took a moment for his eyes to focus and recognize, but the “Master Baggins” in a familiar voice was the only clue he needed.

“Bard?”

The former bargeman stepped further in, Thranduil behind him. Bilbo stared at the two for a moment before Bard came further forward with a soft smile. 

“I am very happy to see you Master Baggins. I’d feared the worse after none of my men had reported seeing you, or hearing about you.” Bard paused to take him in now that his eyes had adjusted further to the dim light in the tent, and he focused on his bandages. “Although with a head injury I suppose I should be happy you were found by the elves.”

Thranduil made his presence known then by clearing his throat. “Yes it was quite fortunate my men saw him, hidden as he was on the river.”

Bard turned, “My reports tell me that is where they found Oakenshield.”

Thranduil nodded grimly and Bard looked between the other two in the tent. “You don’t mean?”

Thranduil simply raised an eyebrow and Bard fell silent. In the silence Thranduil stepped forward until he could lean over and put his hand on Bilbo’s head again. Bilbo continued to watch the emotions going across Bard’s face.

When Thranduil stepped away he took Bilbo’s gaze from Bard and eyed him critically. “Were you brought food?”

Bilbo gaped at him for a moment before nodding. Thranduil nodded minutely, “Would you like more?” Bilbo was hungry, but should he ask?

Thranduil seemed to know his thoughts exactly, and he turned to leave, “I’ll get you more.”

When Thranduil left Bard seemed to come back to himself. “He left you?”

Bilbo shrugged, “That’s what I remember. The Company was there, and they took Thorin.” 

“Your whole company?”

Bilbo nodded and Bard exhaled roughly before shaking his head. “Of all the things. Why?”

Bilbo looked at him incredulously, “I gave you the Arkenstone. The most important thing in Erebor, nothing matches its worth. I betrayed them. Why wouldn’t they?”  
Bard didn’t respond and Bilbo hoped he’d move on until he lifted his head to stare at him steadily, “When you were in Laketown I noticed some things.”

Bilbo stared back and huffed, “I’m sure whatever you noticed, you are mistaken.”

“I have never claimed to know anything about dwarves, or Halflin-Hobbits” Bard stumbled over his mistake with an embarrassed cough, “but I did notice the way he looked at you.”

Bilbo looked away as Bard continued. “I noticed that when you left he was one braid short while you had gained one.” “Bard-” “I noticed the shirt you wore underneath your coat and its brilliance as you came to barter for their lives.” Bard shook his head with a laugh, “I do not know much about the world outside Laketown and my family, but I can recognize obvious affection and I can draw conclusions about what that shirt meant after seeing how much dwarves covet their metals and jewels.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and shook his head, flinching at what the pain the quick movement brought. “Whatever affection you saw was temporary. It was borne of duty and a belief in my trustworthiness and loyalty that was broken the moment I snuck out of the mountain with a foolish hope for peace.”

Bard reached forward and put a hand on his shoulder, “You loved him, enough to break it. That is far more than many can say.”

Bilbo looked up with tears forming in his eyes, “I still do love him. But I am, and was, a miserable rat from the Shire who had no reason being here.” Bilbo felt the tears begin to fall from his eyes as he roughly laughed, “And I should have listened the first time I was told to go home.”

Bard shook his head as he took his hand back, “From what I remember the night before you left there were many stories about all the good you’ve done.”

Bilbo huffed a laugh until Bard continued, “From Trolls, to orcs, to spiders, and elves they would be dead without you.” Bilbo stared up at Bard incredulously, “As far as I see it you were more essential to this quest than you’ve been allowed to believe.”

Bilbo swallowed heavily and looked down. “That doesn’t mean-” “It does. They owe their lives, and their mountain to you.” Bard paused and heavily sighed, “Although I could’ve done without the dragon.”

Bilbo caught a laugh and looked to Bard with a wince, only to see Bard smiling down at him. “Master Baggins you have been far more necessary and helpful than anyone has given you credit for.”

“That doesn’t change that I stole from The Company, broke their trust, and committed treason.”

Bard winced, “Was it really treason if it was to help save their lives?” 

Bilbo didn’t respond and looked away.

Bard sighed before turning away to look around as he took something from an inner pocket in his coat. “You say your dwarf” Bilbo winced “covets the Arkenstone over all else, even those he loves.” Bilbo opened his mouth to respond as he looked up, only to stop at the object Bard had drawn out. 

Bard looked down at the Arkenstone with distaste as he continued, “If that is the case then you should be confident in the fact he will forgive any wrongdoing if it is brought back.”

Bilbo only stared as Bard placed it gently onto his lap and stepped away. Bard drew his eyes away from it and swallowed roughly before nodding and turning to leave. “I have stayed too long, and I am sure my men have begun looking for me.”

“Bard I can’t-”

“Master Baggins.” Bard stared at him, eyes piercing “If you are to barter again I ask you approach your dwarf and ask for a share of treasure for the Men of Dale.” 

Bilbo nodded mutely, and Bard turned to leave. 

“Bilbo.”

Bard turned back, “I’m sorry?”

“You may call me Bilbo.” he paused to huff out a breath, “all my friends do.”

Bard smiled and gave a small bow, “Well met Bilbo. May we see each other soon, hopefully when you’re returned to better health and standing.”

“To you as well Bard.”

Bard nodded and left the tent without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like to leave a comment I'll respond, or if you leave a kudos I'll not be able to respond, but I'll still really appreciate it and probably do a little happy wiggle~
> 
> I appreciate everyone who took the time to read either way and I hope to update soon! Thank you all!


	4. Making Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter, anything that needs an explanation has it below. Thank you. Hopefully as we get further I'll have more to explain.

Bard was gone when Thranduil got back. The Hobbit seemed more pale and drawn, his eyes heavy with emotions as he acknowledged Thranduil. The Elven King hesitated, he’d thought bringing Bard would improve the Hobbit’s mood. They had seemed friendly from what Thranduil remembered of his first meeting with the small creature. 

He had hoped Bard could get more out of him, make him happy in a camp where everyone was unfamiliar, distract him from the broken bond he was no doubt feeling keenly. Thranduil moved forward without pause and helped the Hobbit eat, noting how quickly the soup he’d brought was eaten. When the Hobbit was finished he thanked him softly and readjusted himself carefully, but Thranduil caught the gleam of something hidden in his blankets and paused. The Hobbit caught it and looked at him nervously. 

Thranduil simply stepped away and began cleaning up any mess he could find as he checked for medical supplies, so he could check the Hobbit’s head wound. As he gathered what he needed he happened upon the armor the Hobbit had been wearing, he recognized the material and his breath caught briefly. He’d been so caught up in checking wounds he hadn’t realized- and he felt his anger grow. 

That Dwarf, his anger simmered under the surface as he stared at the coat of armor. He swallowed heavily and placed it down before gathering what he needed. When he turned around the Hobbit was watching him, he looked sunken in and Thranduil walked forward to his side. 

He reached forward carefully and the Hobbit allowed him to redo his bandages without complaint. Not commenting on the pause as Thranduil stroked the spot where a braid had hung, cut sloppily in the hurry to check what could have been a deadly wound. Thranduil ties the bandage off carefully and draws back to check the Hobbit over again. He is pale and looks like a shade of whom he'd first met, but he is breathing and his eyes are clear. Thranduil is confident in a full physical recovery, even if not a mental one, but the Hobbit is not the first or the last Thranduil has helped heal from such a break. 

Suddenly he feels suffocated and Thranduil prepares to leave, drawing the Hobbit into meaningless conversation about his head injury and how it’s doing. He looks around once more before motioning to a nearby stool that holds the belongings and rags the Hobbit had been wearing when he was brought in. 

The Hobbit acknowledges his words with a soft smile and Thranduil finds himself at a loss for what to do next, Hobbits are much different in their mourning than elves it seems and Thranduil is unsure of what he can do.

When Legolas enters it is almost a relief as he is drawn away for a problem not related to healing. He and Legolas excuse themselves and leave quickly, Thranduil pausing to look back at the Hobbit who stares at something in his hands, and a jolt to go through him as he recognizes the braid he’d cut. 

~~~~~~

Thranduil had left quickly, and Bilbo was glad for it. His mind was exhausted and the cursed stone near his leg wasn't doing him any favors. What Bard had been thinking when giving it to him he'd never know. Dwarrow were stubborn, the months he'd spent travelling with them was a clear indicator, nothing would fix this.

Thorin still hates elves because Thranduil had abandoned his people when Smaug first came. Thranduil had been a distant betrayal, a king doing what was best for his people at the cost of others. Bilbo however, his betrayal had been personal. He'd gotten close to Thorin, been courted by Thorin, loved Thorin. Thorin had grown close to Bilbo in a way, Thorin had admitted in the dead of night, that no one else had. It was that memory alone that'd let Bilbo know what the cost of his betrayal would be. Bilbo hadn't ever planned on being allowed in the mountain again, although he'd hoped Thorin would see why he'd done what he had once his madness had cleared. 

Waking up with a vague memory of Thorin being taken away from him on that icy field solidified every one of his fears. There would be no forgiveness, not for the Hobbit who they'd all despised and had made clear should never have come. He'd single-handedly destroyed one of the best things in his life because he couldn't stand by and watch them all be killed over a pretty rock. It was the right decision, no doubt in his mind on that, but he wished he'd been able to keep him in the end. 

Bilbo's eyes wander around the room until they settle on his possessions. His tattered red coat hid the shiny mithril he'd been given, and he swallowed heavily with a wince at the reminder of the look on Thranduil's face. The Elven King had obviously recognized its worth, and his eyes had been sad, perhaps he too pitied the disgraced Hobbit. 

Bilbo's eyes moved to his lap and the braid he kept a firm hold on, it had barely registered that he hadn't let it go, but Bilbo found he almost couldn't. The braid was tied off with one of Thorin's clasps, and although it was matted with blood Bilbo couldn't find it in himself to care. This had been the visible proof of Thorin's devotion to him, and now it was simply another thing he knew held no meaning anymore. Except, Bilbo's mind went back to one of the first conversations he'd ever had about braids and their meanings. A cut braid was a sign of mourning or disgrace, and wasn't that ironic. Perhaps it had simply been to save his life, but Thranduil had kept to dwarrow tradition and cut his braid from his head in accordance to his crimes. 

He brought a hand up to brush through the remaining hair near his temple and he wondered if Thranduil had realized. 

Although it mattered not, Bilbo thought of the rock at his feet, the braid in his hands, and the armor across the room. None of it was rightfully his, and he closed his eyes at the thought of facing Thorin when he'd demand it all back. He opened his eyes again with a sudden clarity and he wondered if Thorin would leave him be if everything Bilbo was ever given conveniently found its way back into the hand's of the Dwarf King. 

Bilbo pulled the blankets aside and walked across the room, unsteadily until he found his balance, and when he did he immediately grabbed his coat and the mail underneath. Bilbo's shirt was nowhere to be found, and although the elves had redressed him in one he wondered where it had gone. His trousers were the torn ones he'd worn the whole journey and he didn't give that much thought as he rifled through the jacket's pockets for anything he may have grabbed without realizing. 

He finds the acorn and he holds it, mind going back to the brief moment of clarity in Thorin's eyes that had solidified his decision. He continues patting the pockets of his jacket and pauses as he pulls out a ring. His mind only conjures up the shadows and whispers he heard everytime he put it on, but why would he continue using it? He's about to toss it when a memory comes to him, that emaciated creature and his escape using the ring. He brings the ring back to his focus and regards it thoughtfully. An idea comes to him as he looks over everything he has at his disposal. 

Thorin can't miss what is there and Bilbo had gained many skills sneaking around an Elven kingdom. So, Bilbo formulates a plan.

~~~~~~

Bilbo's plan is coincidentally how he finds himself weaving his way quickly and carefully through a dwarven camp with sparse torchlight and not nearly enough empty paths so close to dinner. The Hobbit finds himself cowering and weaving gracelessly as he tries to locate Thorin's tent. He ends up walking through a communal area at some point, stopping as he sees Ori and Dori standing next to each other. It almost costs him though as he's nearly bowled over by the large dwarf with the red beard that Bilbo can distinctly remember arrived on a ram before yelling at the elves. 

Bilbo moves away from the common area and tries to follow dwarves who look important as he questions whether that really happened. He shakes his head and continues around the camp until he finds a tent more guarded than the rest. He takes barely a second to think things through before he is through the opening and inside. Looking around he grows confident he is in the right place. There is a desk with papers strewn upon it and a singular cot. He looks around carefully, seeing Thorin's coat and allows himself a breath as he sets to work.

He approaches the cot and carefully draws the mithril coat over his head. He places it down on the bed, before drawing the Arkenstone from his pocket and placing it on top of the mail, finally he takes the braid from his pocket. Bilbo hesitates before placing it down in front of the Arkenstone. As he looks on the display he winces at how bright the Arkenstone seems next to what he returns. It's meant to be an apology of sorts, retribution, but it all seems to fall flat. 

Bilbo closes his eyes and shakes his head. He draws in a final breath, takes in the tent and turns to leave, shadows flickering in and out of his vision more keenly in the lit tent. As he steps forward a shadow grows in front of the entrance and he instinctively presses himself to the edges of the tent, watching the shadow grow as Thorin enters. He's muttering in that secret language of the dwarves as he walks forward without looking up, and when he does he pauses. Bilbo feels himself freeze as he waits. 

Although unintentional, this is a final test. 

Bilbo watches with bated breath as Thorin draws closer to his cot. When Thorin reaches out to grasp the Arkenstone, ignoring the Mithril vest and braid Bilbo had arranged around it, Bilbo's heart grows heavy in his chest. A look of awe is slowly lighting Thorin's face and Bilbo turns away quickly. With a measured breath and a last look at Thorin, memorizing the look of awe and happiness, he leaves. He doesn't take another breath until he is in the shadowed outskirts of the camp. 

Bilbo allows himself a sigh and a sniffle before he pulls his ring off to clear his mind from the whispers that haunt him every time he wears the blasted thing. He allows a quick glance around before shaking his head. No one would be this way so close to dinner, especially after how busy it was earlier. 

It is as Bilbo is trying to take deep breaths to clear the whispers that he hears a choked off noise to his right. Turning quickly Bilbo comes face to face with Bofur. They stare at each other, neither daring to move.

In the pause Bilbo scans him for injuries almost desperately. He had seen the whole company together when they rushed onto the ice, but his only focus had been Thorin at the time.

Bofur gives him the same scan over, eyes catching on a particular section of missing hair, then narrowing at the stained bandages "Master Burglar what have you-"

"I would ask you, Master Bofur" Bilbo pauses and takes a fortifying breath "for your forgiveness and my sincere thanks for having shared such a journey with me."

Bofur shakes his head and reaches forward, "Master Baggins-" stopping when Bilbo retreats a step and shakes himself before sketching out a rough bow.  
"I also sincerely apologize if your standing in the company was affected in any way with your association or kindness to me."

"Bilbo, no. That's no-"  
"Please inform Thor-" Bilbo swallows with a grimace before correcting himself, "your King that the former men of Laketown have claimed the fourteenth portion of treasure in exchange for the Arkenstone." 

Bilbo finally raises himself to see tears streaking down Bofur's face. Kind, sweet Bofur. The first to reach out, the first to lend a hand. How Bofur must have felt to know he had so easily opened his arms to a thief and liar.

There is a sudden ruckous from further in the camp and Bilbo turns and flees, ring half forgotten in his pocket as he disappears into the night. Bofur left behind, staring unseeing in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hurt a bit I'm not gonna lie, next chapter we may have a bit more perspective, so please stay tuned. 
> 
> Small reminder; in canon elves can die of sadness and heartbreak. Just, keep that in mind as we continue.  
> -Also a personal hc that dwarrow in general have amazing vision in the pitch dark when underground, being above ground and in the dark doesn't help them at all since the moon interferes even when not visible. 
> 
> If anything needs further clarification please comment and I'll reply as best I can without ruining anything.


	5. Wounds and Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you for reading this far and sticking with me! The chapter you've all waited for, Thorin's POV. I hope you'll enjoy! I've also added Update days to my profile, so if you want to know when something will update it's there.

The after of a battle was never spoken of in song, perhaps the joy and triumphant of besting foes; but never the stench or devastation left by the dead. There are no odes to the healer who waits and the friends who mourn. There is no talk of burning bodies and searching for those who will never be found. No one speaks of waiting and watching for a soldier to wake. That is precisely why when Thorin wakes three days after the battlefield falls silent there is no one nearby.

He wakes gradually, his eyes searching the canvas above him with for answers as to where he is. His ribs hurt, and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to feel like he died, but he’s somehow still alive, unless the Halls of Aulë are a lot shabbier than the stories suggest. 

He winces at the pain in his throat as he breathes in roughly, definitely not his Maker’s Halls then. A light flashes through the tent, and he looks over to its source to squint through the light and make out whoever’s stepped in, hopefully not the pompous and arrogant ass that was the Elven King. 

“Uncle!”

Oh.

A weight flopped gracelessly on him, and he groaned in agony, the weight was gone immediately. He sucked in air desperately, distantly registering a loud smack and whine.

“Get Óin.” 

The tent flap opened again briefly before closing, Thorin struggled to breathe through the pain; there was a voice distantly speaking. “Honestly…...can’t believe…so sorr...you’ve just been asl…never thought you’d wake up.”

The pain lessons with every breath, although an ache still persists. Thorin can focus and listen to the voice next to him with more clarity as every second passes. 

“So sorry...he was just excited...thought you’d died...Óin will be right...only one not awake yet. The Company has been keeping the others....Dáin in particular will be glad to see you...men have been-”

The voice cuts off as the tent opens again and Óin comes into sight above him. He begins speaking rapidly with someone over his shoulder as he presses his hands to Thorin’s chest. The aches ease as the familiar warmth of a healer’s touch moves through his bones. Óin lets it sink in for a moment before another enters his vision just barely on the edge as they help Óin move him about as he pleases. 

Thorin endures the poking and prodding, wheezes his way through breathing exercises, drinks the foul concoction Óin forces on him and falls back asleep. 

The next time he awakes he is not alone, “Thorin.”

He moves his eyes towards whoever sits at his side, “Balin.”

His oldest friend nods at him, eyes darting over the rest of him before returning to his face. “I am glad to see you awake.”

Thorin swallows, emotion rising over him, “Balin, my nephews? The Company?”

Balin nods, “Everyone is alive, and mostly intact. Fíli has a broken leg, Kíli broke an arm,” Balin pauses here, “he was brought back by the elf-maid.”

Thorin grimaces, but says nothing. Instead, he lets out a sigh and settles. His eyes blur and go unfocused, he thinks back to the battle. It all could have gone so wrong, his greed had ruined everything. Just like his grandfather. The silence sits as Thorin plays it all again until he comes back to himself with sudden clarity.

“Bilbo.”

Balin looks at him and swallows before shaking his head and looking away. 

Thorin feels his heart stop. “He was there.”

Balin looks at him again, “When-”

“He was on the ice. He-” Thorin coughs, breath coming out choked as his panic grows, “I apologized. He killed Azog.” Thorin’s breathing is strained as he tries to sit up. Balin stands and places a hand on his chest to try and keep him down, but Thorin needs up. He needs to go find him. He’d been right there. Thorin struggles against the hand on him until his body gives up, and he ends up panting weakly while Balin speaks over him. 

“You were alone.” Balin pauses and looks down at him “I’ll send someone to look at first light. If he was there we’ll know.” 

Thorin continues to pant weakly, he raises a hand to his hair and grabs a braid. 

Balin catches the motion, “You didn’t take his braid.”

Thorin sinks back into the bed and lets his eyes close.

“We’ll find him.”

~~~~~~

The next day Thorin finds himself awake for far longer, Balin gives him light paperwork, and he throws himself into it without pause. Óin stops by constantly to scold him and force medicine on him at every single hour, but Thorin never allows himself to falter in his work. 

It is later that evening, after he’s seen Fíli and Kíli alive and well with the rest of The Company that he hears word from the search party sent. They bring his sword, Sting is covered in black blood and Thorin near-cradles it as they give their report. 

There is no sign of Bilbo besides blood stains and Sting. He listens and dismisses them as the world crashes around him. The body of Azog went over the falls, and Thorin knows Bilbo may very well have gone over with it. 

Balin tries to talk to him, but Thorin has shut himself down, his world narrows to the sword in his lap and the memory of rasping apology after apology to the Hobbit. Between one blink and the next he’d been gone, but he’d been there. Thorin knew he’d seen him. 

~~~~~~

When the next day comes there is a meeting. Now that Thorin’s awake he prepares to barter with the Men and the Elves, even if that last one still guts him. Bard is late, and Thranduil is as unbothered as always. Tharkûn has been missing since the battle and he’d heard Bofur optimistically point out that Bilbo had been with the wizard the last time the rest of The Company had seen him. A few shoulders ease, and it is easier to convince themselves that he left with Tharkûn than consider that he is dead. 

Thorin grasps onto the thought and refuses to let it go, Tharkûn would never have allowed Bilbo into battle. The wizard had shown his care for the Hobbit, and he would not have allowed him to come to harm. Sting could have been in the hands of a man and just dropped when they fell. Perhaps there were more designs of the same short-sword. 

Thorin doesn’t allow his mind to go down any other paths. Bilbo wasn’t dead. Thorin would have felt such a thing, right?

When Bard enters he apologizes and they begin. Thranduil only wants his damned gems, and Thorin grimaces at the promise of further wants when Erebor is stable. The men want a home for the Winter. Balin handles most of the negotiations, although Thorin adds in for food from the men. It’s civil and Thorin has worked with Balin enough to recognize a barter strategy that has no baring on whether the other side will get what they want. 

He knows Dáin’s kin are weary of others being in Erebor that are not dwarrow, but Thorin can remember when it was common for traders from far off to stay long weeks or months in Erebor instead of heading back and forth when it was unneeded. Thorin eagerly looks forward to the days when it will happen again, although he had hoped he wouldn’t see them alone. 

The advisor Dáin recommended from the Iron Hills talks of the capacity the mountain can hold and Thranduil adds in. Whatever he says has everyone bristling. He offers his aid with a smile that speaks of his actual intentions and Thorin prepares for a shouting match to start, but instead he mentions Bilbo.

Thorin’s breath catches and his mind unhelpfully reminds him that he still doesn’t know if Bilbo had left with Gandalf. Thorin makes some vague response to their questions, mind running rapidly. If even the men hadn’t seen the Hobbit then had he really gone with Gandalf? He hasn’t seen-

“What if he did?” Bard “What would you do?”

Balin tries to help, “That is not why this meeting was called.”

“What would you do?”

What can Thorin say to that? Even he doesn’t know. Would he beg? Plead? Cut his hair from the shame and offer his braids? He huffs and says nothing. 

The silence lasts and Thranduil stands, “If that is all I will be leaving back to my people.” Bard stands and follows him.

Thranduil stops, “Perhaps I will search for Master Baggins myself. He was a delight to meet, and I'm sure the same Hobbit that stole thirteen dwarves from my dungeon before riddling with a dragon could be a great asset to my kingdom."

Thorin’s blood runs cold. If Tharkûn left as soon as the battle ended he’s still in Mirkwood. That’s not an idle threat by any means. Especially if he’ll actually welcome the wizard. Bilbo would even enjoy it there, he’d loved Rivendell. 

When Thranduil steps out Thorin’s anger explodes from him quickly. He is newly recovered, and yet he has thrown his desk across his tent without noticing. His body protests the exertion and Balin is trying to talk with him, but his mind is elsewhere. 

The Iron Hill’s Advisor is still sitting, not having moved. “Good ridd’nce. Let ‘im find the ‘alfling, trait’rous fuckers’ll prob’bly ge’ ‘long.”

Balin and Thorin turn to the dwarf as one and Thorin feels himself shaking, “Get out.”

The dwarf looks shocked, “My Lord?”

“GET OUT!”

The dwarf bolts, and Thorin feels himself collapse, knees hitting the dirt hard. Balin is at his side immediately, but Thorin does not hear him. His chest is aching and his mind is far away, panic overwhelming him at the thought of Bilbo staying with the damned weed-eater for any amount of time and Mahal-forbid actually liking it there. 

Balin drags him from the floor, getting him into the abandoned chair with little struggle. 

“Thorin!”

His voice is clearer than before and Thorin looks up. Dwalin stands behind Balin, his oldest friends watch him wearily. They’re concerned, but Thorin can’t find it in himself to truthfully care. His world feels like it’s collapsed, the ache of his ribs feels more and more like his heart every hour that passes. There is something so fundamental to his entire being missing and Thorin aches without it. 

Dwalin grabs him roughly by the edges of his armor, “Get it together laddie. This whole camp will fall apart without you.” Dwalin gives him a little shake, “The Hobbit went with Tharkûn. He’s safe and alive. The damned wizard wouldn’t have any less.”

Thorin nods slowly, mind refocusing.

Dwalin releases him with a huff, “I know you cared for the lad.”  
“We all did.” Balin chimes in.

“But he’s left. We rebuild. We don’t say a word. We forget the fact that a Hobbit ever came with us.”

Thorin chokes, “I can’t.” It feels like admitting a secret. Thorin has never wanted something so badly as he does now. His own guilt is eating him alive, there is something wrong, and can’t they see that? Thorin’s own chest is torn open and bleeding from a wound only one can fix. 

Dwalin scowls, “Then go after the damned wizard.”

Thorin shakes his head, “He wouldn’t want to see me. Why would he? I almost killed him. I gave him my braid, I threatened him, I gave him Mithril, I almost killed him. He should be far from me, safe.”

Dwalin and Balin glance at each other and back to Thorin. Balin lets out a long sigh, “Did he tell you that?” 

Thorin glances up, “He shouldn’t have to. Of all the things I’ve done the least I could do is leave him alone.”

Dwalin rolls his eyes, “Please-”

“He should demand my braids Dwalin!”

They stare at him in shock.

“And that’s the least of it! Of all the cowardly things I’ve done I regret most my actions at the gate. And yet, I should have never treated him as I have! From the beginning I have acted in a way that would have demanded my braids after he proved himself, were he dwarrow.”

Thorin pants, “I will not allow you to deny it either!”

Dwalin looks vaguely surprised, “Dammit I lost the pool.”

“What?”

Balin huffs, “The Company has been betting on when you’d break.”

Thorin looks between the two, “Why-”

“There’s been talk. That the reason Master Baggins cannot be found is that you do not want him to be.”  
Thorin gapes, for surely they are joking. 

“Several of The Company are not convinced your Gold Madness has left you. We pretend otherwise to stop the camp’s divide.” Balin glances away uneasily, “Many have chosen not to speak up on the Hobbit in case you still feel his banishment still stands.”

Thorin stares with quickly growing panic. “Surely they know my actions under the Sickness were not my own?”

Balin and Dwalin look away and that’s all the answer Thorin needs. He stands immediately, ignoring Balin trying to push him back down. “I need to tell The Company.”

Balin lets him stand and nods. “If we’re to do it we need to be quick. Dinner starts soon.”

Thorin nods, “Not here. No room.”

Dwalin nods, “Our tent should do.”

“Gather The Company then.”

Balin takes Thorin by the arm and leads him through camp to his tent, letting Dwalin gather and spread the word to the others. 

It takes several minutes until the whole Company is together, Bofur is in the mountain overseeing repairs and Bifur promises he’ll pass the message along when he sees him tonight. And once they are it’s near impossible to get them quiet again. 

“Quiet!”

Silence.

“It has come to my attention that many question whether or not my Gold Madness has truly left and this in turn has led to the doubt of whether or not our burglar’s banishment was revoked.”

The Company as a whole has drawn a few shades paler and several wince. 

“The banishment was revoked.” The Company waits, “As for my Madness and I can do nothing but apologize once again for leading you all into such peril again and again. I am humbled by the great loyalty you all have shown, and I ask you to stand with me for the years ahead.”

A cheer goes through The Company, though not too loudly, Fíli and Kíli are smiling. They look at each other with looks that scream mischief and Thorin does not care. But, the celebrating must come to an end, and it is Glóin who breaks it. 

“That’s all well and good lad, but the camp has been in a buzz.”

Nori speaks up from the back, “Dáin’s men have been speculating.”

Everyone turns to look at the thief.

“Many are of the opinion the Arkenstone freed your mind from enchantment.”

There are snickers and jeers at that.

“The rumors of Hobbits being fae spawn is still popular there, and many hold the opinion that it is why he stole it away.” Nori pauses to consider his next words, “If we’re to get the Hobbit any sort of support in this camp we need to start countering everything. When he gets back we all need to have been building his reputation. He’ll already be criticized for being a Hobbit and for stealing the Arkenstone.”

Nori glances at Thorin, “If you bring him back with rumors like that circling he will die, and you with him.”

Thorin bristles, “Who’s saying I’m bringing him back?”

Nori scoffs, “We might skin you if you don’t.”

The Company laughs at that and Dori gets in a quiet scolding to Nori. 

Thorin shrugs, “Then we control the rumors first. Nori, what do you recommend.”

The thief’s eyes light up, and he grins.

~~~~~~

The meeting runs late, but they have a plan. Thorin’s still not sure about running after his beloved, but he bears the thought with less trepidation than earlier. His wounds ache like nothing else, and he really shouldn’t be up, but he walks himself to his tent. He’s going over an apology when he reaches the flap. 

He ducks in, steps inside and freezes as he looks up. 

The Arkenstone. 

All thoughts leave his mind and he walks forward in disbelief, everything fades, and he’s drawn in to the ever-changing surface of the living jewel. His breath catches and he feels his heart race as he gazes upon its magnificence. 

Then he stops, why was it here? He shakes his head, and it feels like coming out of the Dragon Sickness all over again. He lets it drop and steps back. The Arkenstone wasn’t the only thing on his cot. 

A brilliant coat of Mithril, the same one he’d pulled over his Hobbit’s head greets him. He doesn’t even notice as he moves forward, hands grasping it and pulling it to him. There’s a dark length of rope stuck to it, and he pulls it off to toss it, until the texture registers. He pulls it closer to his face and feels a cry build in his throat. 

It was a braid. Bilbo’s braid, the one Thorin had spent an hour on since his hair was so damn stubborn, and now it was here. Thorin notices the flakes on at the braid, trying to figure out what it is, choking again as he realizes its blood. There is a high keening noise in his ears, and it takes him too long to realize it’s him. 

The flap of his tent opens again, and he looks up desperately at whoever’s entered, his nephews. They notice the Arkenstone and their eyes focus on it for all of two seconds before their focus is back on their Uncle. Their Uncle who’s holding Mithril mail and what looks suspiciously like a braid. 

Fíli recovers first and is in front of him before he can blink, “Is that?”

Thorin only holds it closer, eyes captured by the blood-soaked braid. 

Thorin isn’t sure what sound he lets out, but it isn’t far off from a scream of agony as he collapses. 

~~~~~~

It is Bombur who finds Bofur at the edge of camp. His brother is staring into the darkness with tears rolling down his face. Bombur grabs him by the arm and pulls him quickly through camp, there’d been a yell from Thorin’s tent and the whole camp was in a flurry as they tried to figure out what was going on. Most claimed attack and Bombur was personally not looking to get caught in whatever had happened. 

Bombur manages to pull his brother into a tent and shoves him into a chair. Bifur is there speaking rapidly as he asks what’s going on. Bombur shakes his head and waves a hand in Bofur’s face. 

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” he smiles with his joke, but Bofur only shakes his head. 

“I think I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! If you're inclined to leave a comment or kudos I'd love to talk with everyone. Come yell at me in the comments, ask questions too! I love them. Thank you for reading!


	6. Escapes and Secret Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I wanted to thank everyone for the support! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.  
> Italics mean Elvish by the way.

“Master Baggins you have given us-” Thranduil stops as he takes in the Hobbit’s haggard state. The Dwarven camp seems to be in an uproar, and he glances up briefly before grabbing Bilbo gently and leading him away while shielding him from view on the off-chance they can be spotted.

“I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for Master Baggins.” Thranduil says firmly when they finally reach the safety of the Elven camp. 

_“Pack up! We leave bright in the morning!”_

Bilbo sighs miserably as the Elves begin packing up. Thranduil doesn’t give them a second look before he begins leading Bilbo to the tent he has been staying in. As soon as they entered Legolas was there. He looked up anxiously, smiling at Bilbo before scanning him over with a critical eye, noting his somber expression and wide eyes. He turned to his father. 

“We are leaving in the morning.” Thranduil swallows before he stresses “There was an urgent missive, and I could not risk those who remained by staying for further negotiations.”

Legolas nods gravely before looking at Bilbo. “Are you alright?”

Bilbo nods. “Just shaken.”

“What happened?”

“I gave it back.”

“What?”

“The Arkenstone.” Thranduil cuts in. “You snuck in to give it back?”

Bilbo nods sheepishly and winces, “Not only the Arkenstone.”

“What happened? Did you give him an ultimatum? What else did you take?”

“He didn’t even see me. I just-” Bilbo huffs a breath and looks down with a shake of his head. “I shouldn’t have gone. I just didn’t want to carry it anymore.” 

“Master Baggins-” “I left my braid.”

Thranduil and Legolas stare at him incredulously as he further explains, “I left the shirt. I hadn’t planned on getting caught or sticking around. He came in at the last minute, he didn’t even notice me. I-” Bilbo stops and shakes his head, wincing slightly “I had hoped to leave it all and go, but-”

Thranduil gently grasps his shoulder. “You were caught?”

Bilbo shakes his head, “Only after I’d already left it. I was seen, though.”

Thranduil sucks in a breath. “By who?”

“Bofur.”

“One of your Company?” Legolas asks and Bilbo nods. 

Thranduil considers his options. If Oakenshield abandoned his beloved so carelessly with no regard towards his health then who’s to say if he would or would not send others to take care of them for him. A chill goes through him as he considers that the Hobbit may have even been left for dead so that he could not come forward to stake his claim on the King. 

Thranduil feels rage boil through him at the thought of such repulsive behavior. From an Heir of Durin no less. Although, Thranduil thinks back to the braid, if it was soaked in blood than perhaps Oakenshield would see it as someone else making it known they’d taken care of the “problem.”

“Father?” Legolas asks uncertainly and Thranduil glances at them. The Hobbit is ringing his hands anxiously and his son is staring at him with a knowing look in his eye. Thranduil steels himself, “We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.” he looks to the Hobbit, “I would ask you Master Baggins, to spend the coming Winter in my halls. The Winter’s in the East are far more harsh than those of the West.”

The Hobbit is staring at him now, as Thranduil continues, “I can ensure safe passage back to your home when Winter ends if that’s agreeable.”

Both Legolas and the Hobbit are staring at him now, but he doesn’t back down; he simply waits. 

“You are certain?” Master Baggins asks, his voice wavering and Thranduil only nods solemnly. 

“I would not only have you Master Baggins I would be honored to host you in my halls for as long as you have need.” 

The Hobbit stares at him for a long moment before he nods, a slight sniffle coming from him as he turns around to hide his face, and Thranduil does not begrudge him the comfort. Instead he addresses Legolas, “Gather supplies and horses-” Thranduil glances at the Hobbit, “and a pony. While the night lasts you should get as far as possible, we will join you before you step onto the path.”

Legolas nods grimly, mind catching up with what his father implies. “We can be ready to leave in only a few minutes.” he glances at the Hobbit looking morosely down, “If it pleases you Master Baggins we can get you clothing better suited for travel. A cloak, and shoes-” “Hobbits don’t wear shoes.”

Legolas pauses with a slight squint before nodding, “Of course, I meant no offense Master Baggins-” “Bilbo.” Legolas stops for a moment, “I’m sorry?”

“You can call me Bilbo.” The Hobbit is looking at them both. “All my friends do. You’ve offered your home to me for the near future and as long as I have need. The least I can give you is my name.”

Legolas and Thranduil look at each other before nodding at the Hobbit. “As you wish Bilbo. If that is the case you must call me Legolas.”

“And me, Thranduil.”

The Hobbit looks between the two and smiles. “Thank you. You have my gratitude, if there is anything I can do I will.”

Thranduil considers his next words carefully, “Friends,” he pauses, letting the word sit “, require no repayment for kindness shown and given freely. You are welcome in my halls Bilbo, as a friend and valuable ally.”

The Hobbit is speechless and Thranduil inclines his head once before pivoting sharply and leaving. 

Legolas nods as well, a soft smile on his face, “We’ll be leaving soon Master Hob-” he pauses, “Bilbo. We’ll be leaving soon. Rest while you can.”

Bilbo nods, sitting on his cot and watches as Legolas turns and leaves just as quickly as his father. 

~~~~~~

_“Father, what happened? I have never seen you so open with your words, why are you acting like this?”_

_“That fool of a Dwarf King. Had I any authority I would hang him from his braids.”_ Thranduil pauses, _“Not a bad idea.”_

_“Father.”_

Thranduil shakes his head, _“Gather supplies Legolas, you must leave before day approaches any further. The Hobbit can not be seen and we must leave quickly.”_

_“Father, why?”_

Thranduil stops, looking at his son with a critical eye, _“Do you not see Legolas? Oakenshield abandoned his One to death. The fact the Hobbit is still alive is a disgrace on his head after how he treated his Ghivashel,”_ Thranduil pauses here, _“if the Hobbit were to come forward with his claim it would cost that King his braids and his throne. Do you not see Legolas?”_

__

Legolas swallowed, eyes drifting down. _“Oh.”_

__

Thranduil nodded sharply, _“That is precisely why he can not be seen. It is much better if Oakenshield does not know he lives.”_

__

_“So that he can not kill the Hobbit.”_

__

_“Precisely, even if the taking of the King’s cursed jewel is grounds for hunting him down, as the King’s beloved-”_

__

_“It was his jewel too, to decide what to do with.”_

__

Thranduil nods firmly and Legolas exhales roughly. _“We will be gone within the hour.”_

__

_“And we will follow behind.” Thranduil turns._

__

_“Father.”_ a pause, _“What of Tauriel?”_

__

_Thranduil hums in displeasure, _“She is staying with the men of Dale as Bard’s right hand. That is the fate she has chosen and I would not tear her so far from her heart’s choice.”__

____

Legolas nods, resigned. 

____

Thranduil sighs, _“Perhaps one day she will return. For now we offer comfort and safety to another who has been torn so far from their own heart’s choice."_ Thranduil places a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. _“All will be well. Even if it is not how we wanted it to be.”_

____

Legolas nods, shrugging off his hand. He moves forward, giving orders as Thranduil watches him leave.

____

_“May those of my care never fall to a fade, may they never wilt and wither beyond saving while I breathe.”_

____

~~~~~~

____

Fíli had never fought in a war. He had never been forced to decide which lives to save and which to die. He’d never been so close to death as he had when he fell from the tower. Fíli knew it was an ambush, he’d felt it in the air, although Kíli had been clueless. He’d known he wouldn’t make it from the tower unscathed, but in truth he was lucky to escape with only a broken leg. Kíli may pout about him going alone, but he is thankful he hadn’t led his little brother into an ambush. He is thankful Kíli only suffers from a broken arm and minor bruising, even if he only hears non stop whining about him holding a bow again. He is thankful his Uncle still breaths, even if his every move seems laced with such a deep loss that he barely functions. 

____

Fíli had known loss, he was old enough to remember his father; and the day he never came back from the mines was a day Fíli would never forget. His mother had cried and cried for weeks before she gathered herself and set herself even further into her work. She dedicated herself to her children and made sure they knew exactly where they came from and who they were. Thorin had been there as much as he could, even as he traveled to provide for every dwarf in the Blue Mountains he’d been there. As a pebble, and then as a dwarfling Fíli had thought of his Uncle as unbreakable. He’d been his idol, the quest had only solidified that vision; even if the Dragon Sickness had shaken him he still looked up to his Uncle. He’d thought him invincible. 

____

But, when he saw him on the ground of his tent, holding a braid and sounding like a dying animal Fíli had realized he was far from the truth. Although Fíli couldn’t blame him, he knew that braid. Fíli had been the first to notice the morning they emerged together in Laketown. Fíli had also watched Bilbo touch it as a nervous habit when Thorin fell to Dragon Sickness. So Fíli knew that braid and he feared what it could mean. Especially when the Arkenstone also sat at Thorin’s feet with the Mithril shirt placed on top. 

____

When Fíli got over his shock he was next to Thorin, and the sound his Uncle let out was ungodly. Kíli was next to them in an instant, trying to grab Thorin’s attention. 

____

The tent flap was practically torn off as Dwalin came barreling through. Fíli was unceremoniously pushed aside as Dwalin put himself into Thorin’s space. Balin was behind him at a more sedate, still rushed pace and he took in the scene. He noticed the Arkenstone first and his eyes widened before he caught Fíli’s eyes. Fíli’s hand curled up over his ear and Balin’s eyes widened further. Óin steps in the tent quickly, taking in those assembled and he grunts as he moves forward. 

____

Dwalin is still trying urgently to talk to Thorin, but he’s not responding. His tone is frantic, Khuzdul mixing with common into something no one understands. The braid he holds is hidden to the assembled room, and he’s holding it like a life line even as Óin sits next to him. Dwalin lets the healer take his place and he turns to Fíli for an explanation, Óin is shaking his head and speaking to Thorin much as Dwalin had done. 

____

“Thorin. Laddie. Come on. Let me see your chest. There’s no reason for the screams, you’ve been through worse. Come on.”

____

Thorin shakes his head, his voice gone as he uncurls himself, Óin moves forward and stops. “Oh.”

____

Dwalin turns from Fíli. “What is-” the warrior pauses, eyes wide and focused on what Thorin holds, “No.”

____

Balin leans forward, sucking in a breath. 

____

The silence sits. Every dwarf in the tent focused on the braid Thorin cradles. 

____

“It’s covered in blood.”

____

Thorin’s words shock everyone from their stupor and they surge closer. They all look as Thorin rubs the braid, flakes of deep brown falling off onto Thorin’s hand. Kíli is the next one to make a noise, high and unnatural. “It can’t be.”

____

Thorin’s voice is wrecked with emotions as he responds, “It can be nothing else.”

____

“What happened?” Balin, always practical is the one to ask. 

____

“I walked in, it was with the armor and the stone.” All eyes look over at the discarded pieces. “I thought it was rope.” His eyes are firmly attached to the braid. “Balin. What does it mean?”

____

Fíli’s Uncle looks so lost as he looks to his oldest friend for guidance. Balin clears his throat, uncertain and cautious. “Nothing good Laddie.” he says apologetically. 

____

Thorin chokes and Dwalin is pressing closer, offering quiet support to the best of his abilities. Thorin can’t take his eyes off the braid and Fíli feels helpless as he watches. A bloody braid, a cursed stone that Bard should have, and armor given to their Hobbit. The image it all paints is not a good one. The others in the tent must have realized for they all look crestfallen and pained. 

____

“Gather the Company.” 

____

All eyes go to Fíli and he steels himself, “We have hunting to do. Whoever left these here, whoever has our Hobbit, we need to find them.”

____

“Lad-” 

____

“And if it is as we fear then we can put him to rest as he deserves.”

____

The room as a collective nods, but Thorin shakes his head. “I would have felt his death.” it is such a quiet whisper but everyone immediately stills, “I would know. He was there, on the ice.”

____

“There was no one-”

____

“He was there.” Thorin cuts in. Mouth set in a thin line, “He was there, he wore this shirt and he had his braid, and Mahal help whoever thought they could take him.”

____

The room is silent, all watching Thorin wearily. 

____

“Do as Fíli says. Gather the Company.” He pauses here, “Or I’ll do it myself.”

____

~~~~~~

____

Bombur is still trying to get words from Bofur but he’s resistant, shaking his head and looking off into the distance. Bifur is worried as well. He keeps trying to get Bofur to engage in any form of communication, but he won’t join in. 

____

When Balin walks in they all turn, but Bofur soon writes him off and is back to staring at his hands. Balin looks at him for a long moment before looking to Bombur and Bifur.

____

“He’s been like this since he got back. We haven’t even had the chance to tell him about Bilbo.”

____

“Bilbo.” Bofur looks up. “You found him?”

____

“No, but we have more news.”

____

Bombur laughs heartily, “Nori does quick work.”

____

“It doesn’t come from Nori.”

____

Bombur pauses. 

____

Balin stares at him for a long moment. 

____

“Oh.”

____

“Thorin asks us all to gather in his tent. Something has happened.”

____

~~~~~~

____

When they reach Thorin’s tent the Company is stacked squeezed as tight as they can be. Balin can barely walk through, to Thorin who sits on his bed, eyes looking at something in his hand. Bofur has remained silent this whole time, his cousin and brother watching him cautiously. The few that greet him when they enter notice his dour mood and they watch him with confusion. 

____

“You were all called for a reason.” Fíli begins, shocking the Company who had expected Thorin to speak. “There has been an incident.”

____

When Fíli pauses, the Company’s questions surge forward. “What kind of incident?”

____

Thorin looks up at them all before moving the fur across his bed back and the responding inhales of breath alert him that they all have seen the stone and the armor. “This was found in my tent along with a braid.”

____

The Company reacts vocally, several voices raising, until Thorin raises the braid from where he’s cradled it against his chest. A silence falls. 

____

“That can’t be.” it’s Ori who’s spoken, voice low in horror as he trembles. 

____

Thorin only swallows and nods, pulling the braid to his chest. “It’s soaked in blood.”

____

More cries from the assembled group and Bofur looks at them all. He thinks for barely a moment before he is speaking, “Who left them?”

____

Thorin shakes his head and this time Kíli speaks up. “We don’t know. They were left anonymously-”

____

“I found them when I got back after the meeting.”

____

“-the guards haven’t seen anyone come in or out.”

____

The silence sits. “What are you going to do?”

____

Thorin looks at Bofur, a fire blazing in his eyes. “Kill whoever did this. No matter how far they run, or where they are.”

____

Bofur inhales, “And what of Bilbo?”

____

Thorin looks startled, “What do you mean?”

____

“What will you do once you find him?”

____

The whole tent stares at him. Thorin clears his throat, “If he still lives I will ensure he can never be hurt again.” Thorin pauses, “Obviously. Bombur did you not tell him?”

____

“He’d just gotten home and he seemed a bit out of it. I was more concerned with his health, you understand.”

____

Thorin nods. “Bofur what did you think?”

____

Bofur clears his throat, “I only meant you said whoever did this would be hunted down.”

____

Thorin nods, “Yes, for their crimes.”

____

Bofur squints, “Yes, for stealing the Arkenstone.”

____

Thorin stares at him for a long moment, “For hurting and disgracing Bilbo.” a pause, Bofur looks even more confused. “And for leaving it as a tribute like it is something I would want and approve of.”

____

Bofur stares. “But Bilbo.” Bofur shakes his head, a confused noise building in his throat. “That makes no sense.”

____

“Bofur why? Why doesn’t it make sense? What about Bilbo?” Bombur is looking at him, shaking his shoulder, but Bofur only focuses on Thorin, who meets his confused eyes with his own. 

____

“Bilbo left those.” The Company stares in shock. Bifur makes a startled noise and Bofur is trying to piece this all together. “He barely made it out of camp, I thought-” he cuts himself off with a wounded noise, “I thought you knew.”

____

The Company sits in the quiet as Thorin stares at Bofur. “I think you’re going to have to start at the beginning, Master Bofur.” Thorin says quietly with a gleam of hope in his eyes. 

____

~~~~~~

____

Outside the ruins of Laketown, just as the sun is rising a lone fisherman watches a group of Elves pass on the outskirts of the town. They move swiftly, numbering only twenty; but they guard the middle. It takes a moment for him to see, but he catches a glimpse of a much smaller figure, bundled well and on a pony, sticking out amongst the elves and he raises an eyebrow. 

____

Elves and dwarves didn’t get along he’d thought, but he huffs and shrugs. Not his place, although. His eyes glance back, perhaps it’d be worth it to mention, just in case.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I've no other notes for this chapter besides saying thank you for reading and I am so glad you've made it this far!


	7. Secrets From Dale and Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am so sorry for the late update. I had a bit of trouble with this chapter and it turned out almost double the size of any other the others. I hope you'll enjoy!

The whole Company listened intently as Bofur spoke of what he’d seen upon his return to camp.

“I hadn’t known it was him at first with how dark it was, he looked like a child of man, but those curls and his bare feet I’d recognize anywhere. He was pale as death when I called his name. Kept calling me by a proper title instead of my name.” Bofur pauses here, “he had a bandage wrapped ‘round his head.”

Thorin makes a noise at that but Bofur forges on, “He kept speaking utter nonsense and apologizing for being trouble, something about hurting my standing.” he shakes his head, “I barely heard anything else he said after I noticed his braid missing.”

Thorin looks down at it, mind moving quickly. “Wait.” a hope grows in his chest, “You said he had a bandage wrapped around his head?”

Bofur nods, quiet as the whole Company turns to look at Thorin. “Thorin?” Dwalin asks, but Thorin’s eyes are looking where it’s been severed, uneven but cut true and not cut as close to the scalp as their traditions demanded. Thorin looks up, “It wasn’t cut by a dwarf. It’s too uneven and the hairs were split further from the scalp than our traditions demand.”

Dwalin reaches forward, hesitating and looking at Thorin who allows him to take it. “Bilbo’s curls start after they reach an inch from the scalp. That braid strand-” “It’s all curls.” Dwalin interrupts him and they look at each other for a long moment. 

“That means this was not cut by any dwarf. If he had a bandage around his head like you say then he has a head injury.”

The Company is piecing it together quickly. “That means he was found by someone who could not check the injury without cutting his braid.” Ori says and Thorin nods. 

“Bard was the last one with the Arkenstone.” Nori adds.

“He was found by the men then!” Glóin exclaims.

The Company begins chattering and Bofur raises his voice, “Bilbo did say the men-” the Company hush to listen to his next words, “asked for the fourteenth share in exchange for the Arkenstone.”

There are many angry grumbles about that and Bifur raises his voice, Khuzdul pouring out of him as he angrily rants. The Company listens for a long moment before nodding fiercely. “Bifur’s right. We need to confront Bard.”

Balin adds in from next to Thorin, “He was strangely eager to find out what would happen to Bilbo if he came back. He’s probably protecting him.”

The Company hushes again. 

“Then we go to him and we answer him honestly about my intentions,” Thorin speaks up here, “and above all else we let it be known that should Bilbo choose to stay with the men he has that choice, but that amongst us he will be honored.”

The Company nods, although Óin snorts. “You’re not leaving that bed tomorrow.”

“Óin-” Thorin starts but the healer snaps at him.

“I’ve allowed you up enough with your ribs and side as bad as they are! You’re lucky you didn’t tear anything else.”

Thorin sighs, resigned as his nephews laugh at him. “Óin I must-”

“I know lad, but let the others get Bard, the man can walk, he can come to you.”

Thorin settles himself again with a long sigh, “Very well.”

Óin nods, satisfied. “Now for the rest of you lot. Out! I have a patient to see to.”

The whole Company grumbles but they allow themselves to be kicked out with little actual complaint, in a much lighter mood than when they’d first arrived. All go to their tents eager for the next day.

~~~~~~

Bard was not having a good morning, if it wasn’t the missive from Thranduil informing him he’d been called home and if that wasn’t a lie Bard didn’t know how much more obvious Thranduil had to be; then it was the summons Thorin had sent him requesting his presence. He hated being in charge. Screw him having a good head on his shoulders this was exhausting and the day had only just started.

Bard sighed, turning to the Raven at his shoulder, “If the King wants to speak to me he will have to come here. I’ve meetings to attend today and unless this is about the men having a place to stay for the Winter I’ve no interest.” The Raven took off with a fluttering of wings and Bard groans. 

“If I may interrupt?” 

Bard looked up, Tauriel stood at the entrance to his makeshift office. He hadn’t known what to do with her when she offered her assistance after the battle but he had come to value her council and experience with all matters of running a kingdom. She’d also become a quick friend with her quick wit and humor. It was honestly a relief to have someone who knew what they were doing helping him. 

“Tauriel you may always interrupt. I hope you have something good to tell me?”

“King Thranduil has withdrawn and is heading home.”

Bard stared at her for a long moment before groaning and placing his head in his hands, “May I inquire as to why the Elven King has returned home so quickly after negotiations have begun?”

Tauriel hesitated, a lie on the tip of her tongue, “A matter of utmost importance has taken his attention away from negotiations and towards his kingdom.” Tauriel hesitated.

“Tauriel?” Bard asked and Tauriel exhaled slightly, barely seen if you couldn’t read her body language. 

“The sudden departure happened after an uproar in the Dwarven camp last night.” Tauriel met his eyes with a purpose, “And several horses were bought along with a pony,” she pauses, “none of those horses or the pony were seen this morning.”

Bard stares at her, mind catching up quickly, “oh.”

Tauriel nods, “I do believe it is also why the soon-to-be King Under the Mountain has requested another audience so early this morning.”

Bard exhales roughly, “This is not ideal.”

“It never is.”

Bard groans again, burying his head in his hands. “Why me Tauriel? Why did they have to give me power?”

Tauriel hesitates, “Because they trust you,” she thinks over her next words carefully as she steps further into the space, “you have led them when everyone else has failed them, you have never sought to control or take advantage of your position. You are an honest man Bard, they see that.” Tauriel watches for Bard’s reaction, unsure of how her words would be perceived by the new King. 

Bard simply sighs, “If you say so.” He raises himself with an exhausted smile, “Guess I can’t let them down. Now, about negotiations, perhaps we could-”

The door slammed open, “King Bard-” the messenger began only to be interrupted as the door fell off its hinges. They all stared at it for a long moment before Bard sighed, “You were saying Korim?”

The messenger shook himself with a sheepish smile, “There is a dwarven envoy on the way here.”

Bard looked at Tauriel, they two stared at each other for a long moment before Bard nodded, “Admit them when they get here and lead them here.”

Korim nods and turns to leave, stepping over the door, “Oh and Kovim,” the messenger looked over, “next time, knock.”

Korim nodded, “Noted sire. I apologize.”

Bard only shook his head. “Just keep it in mind. Now go let the guard know.”

Korim took off again and Bard sighed, “If they don’t let us take shelter in the mountain we won’t make it the Winter.”

Tauriel picked up the door and placed it to the side of the doorway in what would be an impressive show of strength if Bard could be entirely sure the entire door hadn’t been eaten on the inside. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Tauriel looks over, “I just mean the Dwarves would not let their neighbors starve or die in the cold.”

Bard scoffed, “After that meeting-”

“I can’t be sure.” Tauriel interrupts him. “I’m not entirely sure they were planning to deny entrance even if you offered nothing.”

Bard raised an eyebrow and Tauriel shrugged, “I only mean that it is an old strategy to get more in a bid to get something for services they would have already offered.”

Bard exhaled roughly, “I hate politics.”

Tauriel huffed, “The posturing does get annoying.”

The two looked at each other before huffing and Tauriel turned, pausing. “The envoy is almost here, there are only five.”

Bard nods, “If you would not mind I would ask you to stay with me for the negotiations.” Tauriel looks at him, a denial on her tongue- “I do not expect them to go well, especially if it is for what I think it is.”

Tauriel looks at him for a moment before nodding, “I will stay. Even if only for your ease of mind.” 

Bard smiled, “I thank you Tauriel.”

The elf nodded, and went to stand behind the King as the sound of hooves drew closer.

~~~~~~

They’d started on the trail, when you weren’t lost and going in circles the forest could even be enjoyable, if you weren’t a Hobbit. But unfortunately Bilbo was a Hobbit and the very air of this forest was heavy with disease, it made all of his hair stand on end and he was noticeably uncomfortable. Thranduil and Legolas kept the Hobbit within sight at all times and did their best to figure out what was the cause of such a thing.

Bilbo was thankful, of course he was, but this forest. When they reached the gates of the Kingdom hours after leaving Bilbo could finally breathe easier. 

Thranduil noticed the change immediately, his mind going from darker thoughts and theories of the Hobbit’s deterioration to a different line of thinking. Before the gates closed he looked into the forest again with a calculating eye, how curious.

Thranduil gave out orders, giving Bilbo over to Legolas’s care and beginning to plan for the night ahead. Many lives had been lost, tonight they would mourn, and tomorrow Thranduil would get back to work. He might also spend a bit of time getting to know more about his guest but that was neither here nor there. 

As he worked alongside his people Thranduil contemplated what was to no doubt come in the next few days. It made him weary and he felt his age more keenly than he ever had before. Although elves were considered timeless and unchanged by the passing of time Thranduil knew it as a falsity. He could feel each and every single one his years hanging on him like a weight. It was almost a curse, to feel it all so keenly as he did. Every loss and mistake threatening to break him further and further down, and most heavy of it all was the loss of his wife. 

The thought of her paused him, as it always did; and he could feel her absence like a gaping wound. No matter how many years passed since he could still feel her absence keenly, the edges of the broken bond always threatened to spill out and take him completely, but he resisted as he always did. It was not his time.

Thranduil exhaled slowly, mind coming back from other thoughts as he continued his work. There would be time to rest later, time to mourn; for now there was work to be done, and after that there would be even more. As with most things in his life it was only a matter or time. 

His absence would be noted, and connected to the disappearance of the Hobbit. If this Bofur told his King, and he would, then the ruse of another taking care of the Hobbit is over. Although, if he was tired it could easily be written off as a mistake of identity. 

Either way the coming days would prove interesting, and deadly. 

Thranduil sighed, he couldn’t wait. 

~~~~~~

Upon entering the ruins of Dale Kíli’s breath caught as it always did when looking upon the old city. Although this time it was less in awe and more of shock, the former Men of Laketown were bustling about, several doing their best to repair houses while many others gathered in tents to care for the wounded. 

Next to him Balin sucked in a breath, barely heard over the hooves of the rams they rode but Kíli heard all the same. He looked over to Fíli, his leg was getting better, and Óin had been pleased with its healing so far. He couldn’t stand on it for too long, but as the oldest heir and with Óin forbidding Thorin from leaving his bed Fíli had been allowed out in his place. 

Kíli had thought he’d died when he fell from the tower, Azog had simply dropped him. A fall from that far should have done far more than only break a leg but he’d lived. Fíli was alive by the grace of Mahal and Kíli was forever thankful. But his mind still went back to watching him fall. Recently his dreams blurred and twisted the truth, it was not Fíli that fell but Bilbo. Up until recently his Uncle had watched impassively, but last night he’d awoken with Thorin’s scream echoing in his mind as Fíli held tight to him while murmuring a lullaby. 

They hadn’t spoken of it, but Fíli had watched him knowingly that morning, his own eyes shaded and pained. Kíli had only grasped his arm and held their foreheads together, taking comfort in his brother’s presence. 

And now here they were, meeting with Bard as the heirs of Erebor and looking for their Uncle-in-all-but-marriage. Kíli only hoped Bard had actual information, if this turned out to be a dead end Kíli wasn’t sure what his Uncle would do and he prayed to his Maker that it would all be okay. 

When they approached the house, really a shack, where they were told Bard had set up his office, Fíli and Kíli looked at each other. Balin was next to them, Dwalin behind with Gloin, all of them eager to get information on their missing Hobbit.

Fíli nodded once before approaching and entering the doorless structure, Kíli behind him. Balin, Dwalin, and Glóin falling into line as they filed into the building. 

Upon entering Kíli’s eyes immediately filled with only the vision of Tauriel. He was able to take his place next to his brother, but his eyes were caught up with hers and he felt he could not look away as she gazed at him. Fíli nudged him carefully and the rest of the room came back into focus, Kíli looked away from Tauriel hesitantly as his brother addressed Bard. 

“King Bard.”

“Prince Fíli.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Bard spoke. “I have a feeling I know why you are here, but I have pledged an oath. Perhaps not aloud but to myself, so I must ask. Why are you here?”

Fíli inhaled, “I’m sure your hunch is correct. We’ve come to ask for information.”

“Oh?” Bard asked with a sigh.

Fíli nodded, “It has been brought to our attention you may have information on Bilbo Baggins. The former Burglar in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, Killer of Azog,” Bard raised an eyebrow at that, “and the King Under the Mountains intended.”

Bard exhaled roughly, “I mean no offense, but that is quite a shift of titles from Shire-rat, traitor, halfling, and many other things I’ve heard uttered from the mouths of the dwarrow who have found themselves nearby and conveniently speaking on the Hobbit,” Bard spit out the sentence like it burned him, “who they all feel has committed unspeakable crimes and should be killed on site.”

Fíli had grown pale at the words and Kíli could feel the others behind him shifting in place. 

Bard watched their collective reactions before looking back to Fíli, “As such I wonder why such titles have been bestowed to one you obviously have no regard or good faith towards.”

Balin clears his throat, “Until the King awoke there was no word or notice on whether or not Master Baggins had survived. We thought him long gone from the battlefield along with the wizard and until we could either verify his death or his departure there was nothing we could do.”

Bard’s eyes are hard steel, “Then I ask why your King did not answer a simple question on what he would do if the Hobbit was in front of him.”

“What did you call him?”

The room looks to Kíli, whose eyes are shining. 

Bard looks confused. “I do not understand-”

“You called him a Hobbit, not halfling as you have every other time before this meeting.”

Bard pauses, contemplative, “I do not see why it matters.”

“It matters because it means you’ve spoken with him, and recently. You did not speak with him before they left Laketown. Unless he told you when you were bartering with the Arkenstone, which I doubt.” Kíli paused, “So you've spoken with him since the battle, you gave him the Arkenstone back.”

Bard is staring at him, and Kíli knows he’s right. Next to him his brother is eyeing him with a knowing glint in his eye. Kíli stands firm where he is and looks at Bard expectantly. 

Bard shrugs, “And if I have? What information could-” he cuts himself off to huff, “or would I give to you?”

Kíli raises an eyebrow at him, “You tell me.”

“I will give no information until I know what the fate of Master Baggins will be should he be returned to the care of the King who almost killed him.”

Fíli steps in here, “He would be named consort.”

Bard stares at him for a long moment, a peculiar look coming into his eye. 

“That is a promise.”

“You can have my braids if not.”

“I’m not questioning.” Bard grimaces, “But I can say nothing except he is not here.”

Fíli nods, but Kíli isn’t letting that go. “He is not here, because he has already left.”

Bard is staring at him steadily, knowing Kíli’s got it. 

“Yet he was here last night.” Kíli’s eyes widen. “Oh that is a problem.”

“Brother?”

Kíli is staring at Bard, not looking at Fíli once. “It is odd that the elves left in such a hurry.”

Kíli looks to Tauriel, her eyes are twinkling, quiet amusement as he pieces it all together. The others are confused, although Balin has understood. His brother is looking between Tauriel and him with a raised eyebrow but Kíli does not respond as he keeps his eyes on her. “I wonder why after negotiations have finally begun Thranduil leaves, unless the events of last night have forced him to act quickly to protect another.”

The room collectively draws in a breath, “You can’t mean-” Glóin started but Bard only nodded at the younger prince. 

“It was believed to be in the best interest of us all if Master Baggins was considered dead after the events before the battle, especially when adding in other,” Bard pauses, “things.”

Tauriel moves from behind Bard, drawing attention as she continues staring at Kíli, “I can not answer as to why or for what purpose, but rest assured the,” she pauses as she searches for the word, “Hobbit is fine.” 

Dwalin speaks up, “You can not guarantee that, kicked out-” 

“But she can.” Kíli interrupts. “And she has. If Tauriel says the Hobbit is fine, then he is.” Kíli’s eyes shine in the light as he draws his eyes away from the elf and to his brother, pleading for him to understand him as he always has.

Fíli is watching him, a glimmer in his eyes.. He knows Kíli is bold, perhaps a bit biased in trust; but, Fíli's eyes slide to the elf. Tauriel has not moved, but there is a warmth there and a glint as her eyes stay on Kíli. Fíli nods, “Then Bilbo is fine.”

Behind them the others are staring at the two, contemplating until the elf-maid speaks up again.

“King Thranduil,” Tauriel begins before considering her next words carefully, “knows the loss of a love, and he is not unfamiliar to certain,” a pause, “effects the breaking of a strong bond could do. Despite what you may think of him he would not use such a bond as a weapon.”

The others do not trust her, but Fíli and Kíli nod. “I suppose we should be thankful he was found by the elves. If he has a head injury as you say” Kíli says and Fíli hums, “Where was he found by the way? Last we saw of him was RavenHill.”

Tauriel’s eyes minimally widen and Bard swallows heavily. 

“You mean you do not know?”

Kíli is confused, “Why would we? We found Uncle alone, babbling about Bilbo having been there.” Kíli pauses, “About how he killed Azog.”

Bard shifts, “You mean you did not see him when you found your Uncle?”

Dwalin grunts something under his breath and Glóin huffs out, “Of course we didn’t.”

Bard is looking between them all, his eyes knit together, “That is a problem.”

“What do you mean?” asks Fíli and Bard huffs a breath.

“He was found on the ice by the Elves. The general conclusion was that you’d left him to die.”

They gaped at him, “We would nev-” “The audacity.” They broke out into argument and yells until Bard raised his voice.

“Bilbo says the same.” 

They looked to him, “Why?” Fíli demanded and Bard shook his head.

“I’m not sure, but he was half convinced and he vividly remembers you taking Thorin away from the ice.”

They look between each other, “We didn’t know he was there.” Balin says and Bard’s eyes narrow.

“And he may not have been, but it stands to reason Thranduil is convinced you left him to die.” Tauriel chimes in and they all look to her, “I can not speak for Thranduil but I do believe he saw what your King had given him and came to a conclusion after finding him where you’d found your Uncle.” She looks to Kíli “Thranduil has acted with that in mind, so I would ask that you at least remember that when you send a letter.”

Dwalin scoffs, “Send a letter she says.”

Tauriel turns her eyes to him, “Unless you would like to be killed in the Forest and start another war a letter is your best option.”

Dwalin huffs, shaking his head and looking away. 

Balin nods, “We thank you for your time.”

Bard shakes his head, a sigh passing through his lips, “Do not thank me for giving information that was not mine to give.”

Balin nods once, “We thank you all the same.” He grabs Fíli by the elbow and tilts his head for them to leave.

The man nods, watching them turn to leave. Kíli hesitates, eyes looking to Tauriel before he nods at Bard and exits behind his brother. 

~~~~~~

“Bilbo.”

The Hobbit looked to Legolas and the elf hesitated. 

“What do you know of the youngest heir of Durin?”

Bilbo swallowed, “You mean Kíli?”

Legolas nods, sitting across from the Hobbit in the room Bilbo had been given. 

“What do you want to know?”

Legolas thinks for a long moment, meeting Bilbo’s gaze evenly. “What is he like?”

Bilbo opens his mouth to reply before stopping himself, “He is, fun.”

Legolas raises an eyebrow, “Fun?” he asks and the Hobbit nods.

“He is mischievous, and trouble,” Bilbo pauses, thinking back as far as he could, “he likes pranks.”

Legolas nods, “That is all?”

Bilbo shakes his head, “He is stubborn, confident,” Bilbo chuckles to himself, tears forming in his eyes, “but brave and loyal. He is honest, keen of eye, kind, and although he gets ahead of himself he-” Bilbo stops, “he has never stepped too far or overburdened others even when he is suffering.”

Legolas nods slowly, “I see.”

Bilbo nods back and settles himself more comfortably in the silence. He had a feeling this was going to become common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far. I hope you enjoyed.


	8. Mourning and Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this one! Thank you all so much for the support!

The mourning traditions of Elves were a lot more strict than Bilbo had ever thought, especially for a race that rarely died, although, perhaps that is why they are the way they are. He had not thought he would be allowed to observe as an outsider, but Thranduil had insisted he come, that as his guest he had every right. He’d even gotten robes tailored for him. They were incredibly soft, light and loose, while in various shades of green. Vibrant and a stark difference from the daily clothes the Elves usually wore. The clothes were of a superior quality, long and they moved with him. He actually looked graceful. 

The tailor Thranduil sent had complimented him, asking questions, and observing his features. Bilbo had been embarrassed, quiet when the tailor first started, but eventually he’d begun a good conversation with them. Their name was Avarice, given to them long before Common had it as a word, but they found it fun. Avarice was nice, a little stern, but he did have problems sitting still so that was on him. Avarice had finished quickly, admitting a little apologetically that all they had near his size were children’s robes. 

Bilbo had only laughed in good humor, admitting that were he at home he’d most likely only fit in tween’s clothes there. That had drawn Avarice’s attention and they spent the next few moments asking question after question and learning a fair bit about how Hobbits ate. Avarice had promised that when he filled out again they’d make him proper clothes. Bilbo had tried to object but Avarice would hear none of it, only patting his shoulder and telling him firmly that they were going to make him look amazing. Then they’d left. 

Thranduil had come in moments later, commenting happily on how he looked. Bilbo had tried to object, sure he looked fairly ridiculous next to the Elves. Bilbo insisted that he didn’t have to go. He even tried to convince Thranduil that as a Hobbit he understood if he wouldn’t be welcome. Thranduil had only stared at him, eyes narrowed before shaking his head, “The elves have no secrets to hide from honoured guests.”

Bilbo hadn’t won that argument, so now, here he was, next to the royal family and quite embarrassed at all the curious glances he received from the elves who hadn’t seen him almost get thrown off a wall. Those that did recognize him barely gave a glance, as Thranduil read off the names of the dead. There were many, and for every one Thranduil had something to say. Either about who they were, a trait he noticed, or what their fellow soldiers would say about them.

For every name Thranduil would also recognize their family, honoring them as well. It was impressive to listen to, also incredibly sad. The ceremony went on for hours, Bilbo observing and watching; mind subconsciously taking note of the families mentioned. He only realized he was doing it when he caught himself counting out on his fingers how many were in each family. He stopped immediately, a bit horrified to realize he’d been acting like he was back in the Shire keeping track of all his relatives and their relatives, and then those relatives. It was a little mortifying and he quickly stopped. 

From next to him Legolas noticed the odd change, originally thinking the Hobbit had been counting the dead, but when he stopped he realized that wasn’t quite it. The Hobbit was truly a strange creature. Legolas had never met one before, and Bilbo had proven to be both incredibly stubborn while also having a heart of starlight. His bravery was also something to admire, even if it was a little foolish to go into a camp of those who were likely to kill you. Either way the Hobbit was fascinating, completely new and very unlike the Company he’d travelled with. Legolas couldn’t wait to get to know him better. 

~~~~~~

When the ceremony ended everyone went their own ways, many of them mingling in the hall. His son excuses himself to approach the family of one of his trainers. The Hobbit is watching the proceedings with interest.

“They are getting together to remember.” Thranduil says as he looks at the curious Hobbit. Bilbo looks up at him. “It is a rare occasion that we must all come together as a kingdom to mourn our dead. It only happens after great battles or tragedy.” Thranduil looks over his people, “When we must mourn we do it together, we remember who they were and we look toward what they accomplished. We honor them so that we may not forget how we got here.”

Bilbo nods solemnly next to him, “I have been honored to be allowed to witness such a ceremony. It pleases me that Elves do not need a body to mourn their dead.” Bilbo pauses. “It makes me hopeful; that your traditions are different from Hobbits.”

Thranduil hums in interest, eyes looking to Bilbo. “Hobbits do not fight in great wars,” Bilbo starts tentatively, “we do not involve ourselves with the outside, beyond our borders.” The Hobbit smiles sadly, looking away from him and to the hem of his robes. “You might find us quite silly for it, but we cover our dead with flowers and allow them to be returned to our maker. It is how they get to her gardens.” Thranduil watches the tears forming in his eyes and he understands that this is a great pain the Hobbit shares with him. “I never got to return my mother to our Lady, nor my father.” The tears fall down his cheeks, “Without a body they are considered ‘cast out’ and unable to find peace.”

Thranduil stares for a long moment, sympathy filling him at the pain in his voice, “Can they ever regain that peace?”

The Hobbit nods, “If Yavanna decides they may, they will. Though it is considered near impossible to find oneself in her gardens if you do not die in the lands she blessed for us.” Bilbo looks back to him, “I am hopeful, that if your dead can find peace after death, my parents may as well.”

Thranduil nods, throat clogged with emotion, “I am sure the Green Lady would not allow her children to suffer when she can bring them peace.” Thranduil tries to give him a reassuring smile, “She has never struck me as one to be cruel.”

The Hobbit smiles at him, nodding slightly before turning his gaze back to the hall. 

~~~~~~

Fíli and Kíli didn’t speak until they made it back to camp. Balin had let them go off, telling Fíli to get off his leg before Óin had a conniption. They hadn’t spoken while said healer checked said leg. Óin also checked Kíli’s arm before patting him and snorting, “Almost completely healed. Thank Mahal for that elf-maid.” Fíli had raised an eyebrow at his brother but said nothing as Óin packed up and left. The silence stretched.

“Brother.” Fíli started.

“Brother.” 

They stared at each other a moment longer. Fíli broke the moment by sighing, “So, Captain of the Mirkwood Guard?”

Kíli let out a nervous laugh, “I think it’s ex-Captain now.”

Fíli shook his head, “That your fault?”

Kíli shrugged, biting his lip. “Maybe.”

Fíli stared at him for a long moment, silence stretching as Fíli watched his brother twitch.

“I better get to meet her.” 

Kíli looked up, “You mean-”  
“And properly, listening to you wax poetics after you almost died was awful, I ask you never do it in front of me ever again.” he gagged dramatically. 

Kíli laughed, throwing his good arm around his brother. “Not a chance Fí,” he smiled, “gonna only do it when you’re around now.”

“I’ll leave.”

“Not on that leg.”

Fíli cuffed his brother around the head with a laugh as he pushed him off the bed. “Why do I even bother?”

~~~~~~

Nori enjoyed being a thief. It went unsaid that sneaking around where you weren’t supposed to while also stealing things you weren’t meant to have was thrilling. Whether the thrill was good or bad was up to the individual. Of course there was always a downside to sneaking. You always ran the risk of getting caught, being imprisoned, executed even, but by far the worst was having to keep your mouth shut while someone else ran theirs.

This was one of those moments. Nori had his eye on being Spymaster, and he’d make a fine one he had no doubt, the only problem was that he hated listening to cowards speak behind the backs of others. Dáin was a fine dwarf, honest, and when rumors had begun circulating the camp about Bilbo he forbade his soldiers from buying into them and stated he would not make a stance until Thorin awoke. Of course his soldiers still gossiped, but the men had fed that one so Nori supposes he can’t blame them. Dáin’s Generals however, now they were absolutely vile examples of honesty and integrity. 

Nori had never wanted to punch two of his fellow dwarrow so much. The two spouted curse after curse about the “cursed changeling child of the West” that had, “Destroyed the Great King Under the Mountain’s mind and wormed his way like a parasite into his bed” it was sickening. Nori burned with absolute fury, of all the things they could insult him for, like his queer ears, his forever bare feet, his weird aversion to taking any sort of credit, his fondness of Elves, even his strangely curled hair you could insult him for, but no they had to make up lies. Even worse was that a lot of the camp had begun to believe them since Thorin hadn’t put out an official statement. 

It was all so maddening. Nori had never heard such disrespect in all his life, for Mahal’s sake they should know the Company would have stepped in if they ever thought the halfling could do anything. He couldn’t even hold a sword. The whole lot of them were ridiculous for thinking it. 

Unfortunately for Nori though, he had to sit and listen to it all. He couldn’t even step in and correct them when they told the story of the quest wrong, for Mahal’s sake did none of them listen to Ori? Did none of them listen to the rest of the Company? The few dwarrow who seemed to have any actual, and truthful knowledge of the quest weren’t speaking up about it, but they were watching the two Generals in disbelief. 

Nori almost broke his own personal rule when thankfully Dáin walked by. “Oi! That’s damn inaccurate!” Watching the two generals get the yell-down of their lives was entertaining. “Did ya even listen to the little scribe?” Nori choked on a laugh and left, Dáin didn’t need any help. 

~~~~~~

Balin did not want to give Thorin the news. Thorin was already distraught at the idea of him being injured. Injured and in the hands of the race he hated was asking for trouble. From next to him his brother huffed, “This is going to be fun.”

Balin gave him a withering glance.

Dwalin only gave him a toothy grin, “Maybe we could get Óin to drug him.”

“Dwalin!” Balin swatted him, “We are not drugging Thorin.”

“It’ll make this easier.”

Balin rolled his eyes, “This is suspicious behavior from the future Warmaster of Erebor, aren’t you supposed to protect the King?”

Dwalin grumbled quietly, “Don’t know that,” louder he said, “I am protecting him. He’ll kill himself going after his Hobbit and the Elven King.”

Balin shook his head, “Please, who else would he trust with that?”

Dwalin didn’t answer him, using his longer legs to get ahead of his brother. Balin grumbled quietly to himself and entered Thorin’s tent behind his younger brother. 

His oldest friend was stuck in bed for the day per Óin’s instructions, but he was still working. Reports from those clearing the halls and rooms would send a report every afternoon, on top of that other kingdoms had heard of Erebor being reclaimed, many of them sending trade deals and arranging for caravans to arrive in the Spring. Balin knew from experience it was tedious paperwork, but it’s all Thorin was allowed to do at the moment. 

Upon their entry Thorin looked up, hopeful behind a mask of indifference. Although his eyes looked past Balin as if he expected the halfling to be with them. “Balin, any news?”

Balin drew in a deep breath, “He is not with the men.”

Thorin deflated slightly.

“But he did survive the Battle.” Dwalin adds. 

Thorin looks between the two, “There’s more to it isn’t there?”

Balin sighs, “Okay, laddie. I want you to remember we just had a war.”

Thorin bristled, “Balin I swear-”

“He’s with the Elves.”

Balin gave his brother an unimpressed look. 

“Might as well just get it on the table.”

Thorin was staring at the two of them wide-eyed. “He’s what?”

Balin cleared his throat, “Apparently after the battle Thranduil’s archers found him.”

Thorin continued to stare.

“They took him back and treated his wounds. They found him on the ice as well.”

Thorin just continued to stare.

Dwalin coughed, unnerved, “They thought we left him behind to die.”

Thorin didn’t say anything. Dwalin and Balin glanced at each other and back to Thorin. He opened his mouth, closed it again, repeat several times. 

“HE’S FUCKING WHAT?!?!”

“There it is.” Dwalin groaned. 

“I thought he was safe!”

Balin rubbed his temple. 

“One could argue that being with the Elves-”

“The Elves are not safe! How dare they? Oh that damned tree shagger, he knew exactly where he was when he asked me in that meeting.”

“Thorin-” Balin tried.

“Oh I’m going to kill him. How dare he! Stealing!”

“They found him-” Balin interjected, but Thorin was not done.

“I swear! The minute I can get out of this bed-”

“THORIN!”

He paused, eyes wide as he looked at them. Dwalin was huffing, “Bet you wished we drugged him now.”

Balin huffed, “This is completely unnecessary laddie. I like the pompous leaf-eaters as little as you do, but if it weren’t for them Bilbo may have died.”

Thorin opened his mouth but Balin would have none of it, “Listen! He had a head wound. If he’d been found by one of ours what could we do?”

Thorin grumbled but settled down.

“You should find it lucky that he was found by such a skilled healer.”

Dwalin huffed behind him and Balin glared at him before turning back to Thorin, “Thranduil has treated him well, if Bard’s accounts are accurate. The elf-maiden had even agreed.”

Thorin scoffed, “Like I’ll trust-”

“She saved Kíli’s life.”

Thorin stopped.

“You may not trust her but she got herself kicked from her position as head guard and thrown out of Mirkwood for your Nephew. Not only that she saved his life. Give her a little credit.”

Thorin gaped at him, Balin only shook his head. “Either way that is not what we should be focused on.”

Thorin glared, “You’re right. We should be focused on the fact that damned tree-shagger stole my One.”

Balin sighed, exhausted and quite done with it all. “They think you left him to die.”

“They fucking what!?”

~~~~~~

Within minutes of their conversation ending Thranduil had been approached by several of his people. He was drawn into several discussions and stories of the dead. He shared as easily as his people, reminiscing and comforting with several. By the time he remembered he had a guest the Hobbit was halfway across the room speaking with several of his people. The group he was with were all teary-eyed, but also nodding along and smiling at Bilbo. 

Several of those not even in the group were listening in, intrigued by the strange creature their King had brought back. The Hobbit was animatedly telling a story, speaking in soft tones while moving his hands and motioning about. The group seemed enchanted, watching his every move and listening keenly. Thranduil was intrigued, he moved forward to see if he could learn what the Hobbit had done that would allow those in mourning to smile and even softly laugh. 

His son was listening in as well, further in the back of the group, almost hidden as he listened in. Thranduil caught his eye, Legolas shrugged before shaking his head. When the King approached he was greeted warmly by all, the Hobbit turned and nodded at him, but stopped his story. The Elves around him seemed to have realized the Hobbit wasn’t going to tell more with Thranduil there, they all nodded at the halfling and wished him goodbye as they broke back into groups. Legolas left as well, quirking his eyebrow at his father who stared at him curiously. 

“Sorry if I did something wrong.”

Thranduil looked at him. “Did something wrong?”

The Hobbit nodded with a wince, “I-I heard a name I recognized. I thought I’d say something I remembered.” 

Thranduil quirked an eyebrow. “Recognized? I didn’t think you were in Dale long enough to learn about any of my soldiers.”

He winced further, curling in on himself, “I uh, I didn’t” Thranduil waited, “When you had the Company in your dungeons I did a lot of exploring.”

“Ah.” Thranduil hadn’t thought of the Hobbit actually looking around when he was breaking his Company out. “See many interesting things did you?”

The Hobbit’s laugh was low and strained, “You could say that.”

Thranduil hmm’d. “What did you enjoy most about my Kingdom?”

Bilbo looked up, “What?”

“What did you enjoy most?” Thranduil asked again and Bilbo paused. 

“I-I didn’t see much. It was mostly quick looks if I’m completely honest.”

Thranduil nodded. “What would you like to see more of?”

Bilbo considered, “The gardens?”

Thranduil quirked his lip, “A most appropriate choice.”

He motioned the Hobbit with a hand, “Shall we?”

Bilbo looked around, “What about-”

“Everyone is already splitting, families will gather tonight for private meals. I can show you the gardens. Perhaps you can find a link to Yavanna there.”

The Hobbit nodded, “I would appreciate that.”

Thranduil inclined his head and led the way, shortening his stride so the Hobbit could walk alongside him. He’d ask how he snuck around later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, quick thing. I never get why everyone says Óin hates Elvish healing, or thinks dwarrow methods are superior. He even states after Tauriel heals Kíli that he feels blessed/honored to have witnessed it. Just a personal gripe. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed though! Thank you for staying this long!


End file.
